Dead Room
by RedChain
Summary: World War III ravages the world. Japan is forced to take back its ban on war as a means by which to settle international disputes. Men are drafted into the army, including Shizuo and Izaya. But, captured by enemies, they're sent to the Dead Room, a Russian prisoner camp where the prisoners are left to die. (WWIII AU) (may contain triggering content in the future) (Shizaya)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Monster that Could not Kill**

Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution states that the country of Japan would not use war as a means by which to settle international disputes. …Or at least, that's what it used to be like before the third World War was declared…

The immediate response had been to throw that out the window and draft men into their newly formed army.

Violence was stupid. Shizuo hated guns. He hated the ridiculous training, the uniforms, everything. Everything about Troop A19 made him angry. Especially the drill sergeant with the long face.

But, he'd trade anything to have those earlier, peaceful days back.

The trenches are filled with mud and cold water. Men are dying. Some have been shot, others have diseases, and more have strange combinations. Being the strongest man of Ikebukuro gave you some benefits, Shizuo supposes. He's been shot too, but he can't feel it.

He feels the cold settle into his bones.

It's not safe. Even though it's night and pitch-black out, the Russians would continue the siege of Tokyo. These foreign men were used to the cold and trained to kill without mercy. The people the do capture… Shizuo shudders. He's only heard rumors. None of them sounded good.

He's heard about the methods of torture that their 'scientists' use to psychologically break down their patients. Izaya - damn that flea, even if Shizuo hadn't seen him in a year - psychologically broke people too, but he never needed to actually inflict pain to do so.

Shizuo stays awake. It's difficult. His eyelids steadily droop downwards until he jolts awake, ready to fight.

This time… There's something different. He can hear something. Shizuo scans the area. He doesn't see anyone or anything. Suspicious. He makes a hand gesture to alert Fujishima and Soseki, two of his fellow soldiers.

Fujishima stands up, holding his gun.

There's a bang and Fujishima's lying on the ground, so very dead. Soseki begins to scream and won't stop. The young man drops his gun and shakes the corpse.

"Fujishima!" he yells. "F-fujishima! Suzu!" The man sobs. There's another bang and he's dead too.

Shizuo whips his head around. He doesn't see them! Where the fuck are those murderers. The other men grab their guns. Some shoot by accident, but they're not hitting anything. How do you fight an enemy you don't see?

You cannot.

Shizuo's been shot multiple times. He can almost feel it. He coughs up some blood too. That can't be good… He can't kill them. Even if Shizuo could pick up his gun, he wouldn't be able to. He hates violence.

But his comrades are dead and he will die too.

Is Kasuka okay?

Where is Shinra? Celty… How was she?

He wasn't done with life just yet. He still wanted to live, though the world was a mess. Shizuo Heiwajima did not want to die.

One of the Russian soldiers spits on him. The saliva is almost solid and yellow. Shizuo almost vomits. He's angry and disgusted but he can't move. Other soldiers laugh. How cruel. People are so cruel…

One of them barks something out. It's in Russian. Shizuo can't understand. They handcuff him and pull him along. They only select two other survivors. The rest are killed, point blank.

He's alive…

For now, he's alive and that's all that matters.

But what will happen? Where will they take him.

They're led to a prison camp for the pow's. Not surprising. What's surprising is the fact that a good portion of the survivors had been executed. The two other men were shaking and crying. Shizuo's crying too… He hadn't noticed.

They're split up.

Shizuo's led to an infirmary. Good. They'd take care of his wounds.

The doctor is a woman. She's tall. Taller than him by a good head. Her brown hair is pulled back in a severe bun. She patches him up without saying a word. The soldier that had led him to the infirmary comes back to bring him somewhere else.

…Actually, it could have been a different man.

All of the Russian soldiers look the same to Shizuo.

It's cold inside. There's likely no insulation. Why would they need to keep their prisoners warm? It just wasn't necessary. Shizuo shudders. There's cells. The people inside of the cells inch away from those two. They're afraid. Are the rumors true about the torture? Was Shizuo going to die at this camp?

From the way the war was going, it really does seem like he will die here.

The man locks him in. Shizuo will escape later. He's strong. He can break the bars and leave if he tries. But he's tired and injured. Shizuo decides to bide his time and do what the informant would do: collect information.

That way, after escaping, he can tell people what really goes on in the huge Russian encampments.

The cell is simplistic. There's a toilet in one corner and a bed in another. There's not pillow. One blanket. Shizuo grimaces. He expects cold nights.

The prisoner in the neighboring cell mutters… Not in Japanese, that's for sure. Shizuo can't sleep. It's almost quiet, but that guy won't stop… Inconsiderate-! Ugh.

"Ey, pipe down over there," he growls, banging his fist on the wall for good measure.

The muttering stops and Shizuo can hear the person moving around a bit.

"S-shizuo?"

The voice… It can't be… "F-flea?" Shizuo says.

"Shizuo was caught too?" Izaya sounds disoriented. The flea laughs softly. Why wasn't he using the annoying nickname. What's wrong? …But he can't let his mortal foe think he cares.

"When were you brought here?"

"Hmm," Izaya lets out. "I'm not sure… There's no calendar over here, so I wouldn't know." He talks slowly. "Welcome to the Dead Room, I guess," he says.

"Dead Room?"

"That's what the Russians have been calling it. Don't tell them that I already speak Russian," he says. "I'd rather live for a while longer…"

"Do they really torture people?" he asks.

Izaya lets out a harsh laugh. "Yes. Humans are cruel, ne?"

There's something pitiful about his voice… Like he had given up all hope. "Don't you love humans, Izaya?"

"Not anymore," he spits out. "Humans are crueler than any monster could possibly hope to be."

They don't speak for the rest of the night. Shizuo drifts off eventually.

He's woken up by the clattering of a tray. A group of soldiers - not in uniform, but holding onto loaded weapons - is bringing the prisoners their breakfast.

Shizuo looks at the food on the tray: a meagre portion of plain rice and a plastic cup of nasty looking water. It's a pathetically tiny meal.

"Oi, Izaya," he calls. The flea doesn't respond so he tries again. "Flea!"

"…Shizuo?" is the sleepy response.

"How many meals a day are we given?" he asks.

"It varies," yawns out Izaya. "Sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes none. It all depends on the men and their mood."

That doesn't sound good.

"And the meals are always this small?"

"I don't know, Shizuo," he says. "I can't see what you have."

"Do we get different amounts of food?" Shizuo asks, outraged.

"Sometimes," Izaya says. "Today they gave me water." Are they starving the flea? Shizuo tries to remember how skinny the man was. He needs some protein and fat - things he won't get while in a prison cell.

"…Do you want some of my rice?" Shizuo offers. There's a barred window connecting their rooms. They'd both have to stand on their beds to pass the styrofoam plate, but it could work.

"Why are you being so nice to me…? After all, I did stab you and try to have you arrested and killed… on multiple occasions. By all means, you should gloat at how far I've fallen." He sounds hopelessly confused and sad, and his voice even wavers.

This isn't the same flea he chased around Ikebukuro.

"Hey, this is war," Shizuo says. "We need to survive and return to Ikebukuro."

"So simplistic," Izaya murmurs. Shizuo almost doesn't hear him. It's too quiet.

"So, come on flea," Shizuo instructs. "Stand up on your bed. We'll share… I'm not too hungry anyway."

"Can't do it, Shizu-chan," Izaya says bitterly.

"Why not?"

There's muffled moving on the other side. Maybe the flea rolled over in his bed? "I just can't, okay?" He sounds even more bitter, if that's possible. Shizuo wants to hit the stubborn man.

"Listen flea," Shizuo tries again. "I still have my full strength. Let's break out. We caused so much chaos when we worked against each other. Think about how much we could do together!"

"Shizuo, we'd be shot and killed before anything."

"You've been here a while," Shizuo insists. "You should know the guards' schedule. We can time it, maybe free the others while we're at it. We can easily take this base."

"Shizuo… I can't," Izaya says. "I can only help you by telling you when the guards will stop by and where they keep their weapons. But I can't actually do much more."

Shizuo is quiet. He tries to process. "You want to stay here and starve?"

Izaya huffs indigently and says no more.

Shizuo paces around the cell. It's boring boring boring just sitting in the dark. Nothing to do and minimal human interaction. He can speak to the normally chatty flea, but the dark haired man is reserved on this bleak day. He's even counted how many times he's peed so far.

Shizuo lies back down on the bed. It's like a slab of stone and creaks underneath his weight. He hopes that it will not break. He covers himself with the incredibly thin blanket. He doesn't feel tired, not at all. But there's nothing to do within his prison cell.

"Shizuo," calls Izaya. Oh, so now the bastard wants to talk.

"What?"

"How many people survived from your squadron?" he asks.

"Me and two others," he says. "Dunno where they are, though."

Izaya hums softly. "Three survivors," he says. "Three… Three… Why three people…? How many where in your squadron, I wonder."

"Beats me," he says at first. When Izaya doesn't say anything, he continues. "Used to be a lot more."

Why is that louse so quiet!

"You know," Shizuo starts. "If you were more like this when we first met, we would have gotten along much better."

"Pity," says Izaya sarcastically. "We have all the time in the world now. What, do you want to start over again?"

"Sounds like a plan," Shizuo plays along. "How would it go… _Hi. I'm Shizuo Heiwajima_." He says those words of greeting sweetly, almost too friendly.

"Nice to meet you Shizuo-kun," Izaya says in the same sickly tone. "I'm Izaya Orihara. I like cell phones, fatty tuna, and red apples."

"Red apples?" Shizuo says. "Very specific. What do you have against green apples."

"Oh, nothing," continues Izaya. "But red apples do match my eyes." It's vain but strangely comical to both of the imprisoned men. They share a laugh. It's so cold in here, Shizuo thinks.

"Oi, Izaya," Shizuo says. "Do they give out any more blankets? It's fucking freezing in here."

"Such language," Izaya says mockingly. "No, it's a one blanket per prisoner deal. It's shitty, but what can I say… We're here to die, not live in comfort."

Such depressing words from the overly cheerful man come as a shock to Shizuo. "Die…?"

"You didn't know?" Izaya asks. "It's called the Dead Room. The Russians capture some of us and watch us die slowly, due to cold or malnutrition. Sometimes torture. It depends on how shitty they're feeling on that particular day."

Shizuo swallows. "Then we have to escape," he says. "We have to save all of these people!"

"Shizuo," Izaya says quietly. "You can't save everybody. This is war. We're probably going to go down in history as victims of a horrible war crime. Insignificant as single people, but as a collective… At least we'll be remembered." He seems to offer that piece of information to comfort his ex-mortal foe.

"We can go down in history as the people who ended this terrible operation," he insists.

Izaya laughs softly.

"So idealistic," he says. "No wonder I was fascinated by you."

It's a bold confession. There's genuine fondness in the smaller man's voice. Is this an elaborate ruse? Shizuo has to wonder. The flea always lies. Always.

"Relax, Shizuo, it's not a love confession or anything," the man continues. "I found you interesting. You know what else I found interesting…? Cannibalism, but I will never go through with that."

"You're comparing me to eating human flesh," Shizuo says. "Gee, thanks."

Izaya laughs a little at that. Shizuo doesn't really remember how the man looks like. Not clearly. It's all a little fuzzy. He has to convince him to give up the guards' schedule. Shizuo wants out of this hellhole.

* * *

_hey, this is my first fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it. Drop a review to tell me what you think ;) _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Flea that Couldn't Jump Away **

Shizuo's not sure how much time passes by… It could have been a week. It could have been a month… Izaya's right; unless you had a calendar, you'd soon lose track. Time doesn't feel like it was divided into anything when you have nothing to do all day. Every day. For possibly the rest of your life.

He knows he could escape…

The guards — he can smell the beer on them — are drunk and bored and not expecting his superhuman strength. But, one shot to the head, and Shizuo would be very dead.

…He never got to say goodbye to Kasuka. He was taken to a camp to train before he could have contacted his family, his friends, his… employer… Poor Tom.

He needs Izaya's help. If someone told him that in the past, he would have punched them in the mouth and watched them fly away. The thought is absurd… For him to require the flea's services…

But the flea had changed…

But it's frustrating.

It's frustrating that Shizuo is the one with the crazy scheme for once. It's frustrating that Izaya just refuses to go along with it!

It makes him angry. Shizuo doesn't like being angry. No, he's a peaceful guy. …He just has one hell of a temper, sometimes.

"Oi, Izaya," he says.

"Shizuo," says Izaya. "It seems you begin every sentence addressed to me like that."

It's true. But, Shizuo doesn't know how to address the man. He's dropped the stupid nickname for the blond, so it's only fair if Shizuo calls him by his first name. …Right? "Tell me about your troop." It's not an order… He says it softly. They're both probably bored out of their skulls and need something to talk about.

"Hmm… My… troop," Izaya seems to try to recall past events. "After basic training, we were put on the front lines. They were interesting folks…"

"Don't tell me you observed your own people," scoffs Shizuo. For Izaya to keep his hobby, even on the front ines…?

"Habit," Izaya admits. "There was Haru-chan… She was a very bright woman. They took her out of school and onto the battleground, where she was killed. At least she died quickly. A bullet straight through her head. Boom."

Izaya sounds like he's in a trance. Shizuo thinks he's made a mistake. He shouldn't have made Izaya recall past events. Especially traumatizing ones…

"Akane-kun was around our age," Izaya continues. "He was an otaku, and barely survived our training. He foolishly thought that war would be just like the battles in anime and video games. There's a stark contrast though… Real battles, real wars… Real human lives are thrown away on both sides. You'll either be a killer or killed. …So which one are you, Shizuo?"

"I couldn't kill anyone," he admits. It's not a bad thing. To appreciate peace… He misses those long ago days where his only problems came from dealing with the flea. He supposes that that's still his problem, but he's the one pushing the flea to deal with his own scheme.

"I couldn't bring myself to kill one of my—." The flea stops. "Any human."

It's an interesting pause. What would he have said? Any of _his _humans? Is the louse feeling well? He's not a god, like he's always claimed. Hopefully, he does know that…

"I thought you already killed people before," Shizuo said. "Don't you, you know, work for the yakuza?"

"Well, currently I don't work for anyone," Izaya says. "But, I've never killed someone with my own hands."

What is that even supposed to mean?

Shizuo doesn't comment on it.

"Do you know when we can shower?" the blond wants to know. He can feel the dirt and grime and the sweat on his skin. He's still wearing his uniform. It's filthy. He wants a spare change of clothes along with water and soap. Hell, he'd settle for cold water. Anything to wash himself.

"I don't know," says Izaya. "I don't think there's any pattern behind it."

…That's not reassuring. People needed to keep clean. Shizuo feels disgusting. He can't imagine how the numerous other prisoners feel. There are plenty of people who've been imprisoned longer than himself.

Some days they'd be taken by the Russians soldiers and returned hours later, shaken and bloody. Torture is a definite thing in this horrible camp.

Some of the captured cry and make whimpering noises. It's sad. How could those Russians hurt them like that. Sure, they looked different and spoke a different language… But… in the end, weren't they all human? Don't other humans deserve respect? Shouldn't other humans be treated right; treated like human beings instead of test subjects?

Shizuo can hear the soldiers coming with their next meal. His tray is dropped onto the floor with a loud clatter. He stands up to retrieve it. There's a bowl of some sort of soup along with a plastic spoon.

But Shizuo can hear them open Izaya's door and walk in.

"Вы бу́дете есть?" says a soldier. "есть," the soldier repeats, louder. Shizuo doesn't understand the harsh language. The soldiers… Do they know that Izaya is fluent in their language? Why else would they try to speak with him? It doesn't make sense.

"Ты понимаешь," another soldier says. "Нужно есть, чтобы жить, а не жить, чтобы есть."

Izaya doesn't respond and the soldiers only repeat their words louder and louder. Shizuo's scared. He's scared for the louse. He has his incredible strength. Izaya's always had his switchblade and ability to twist words.

But now the man cannot possibly have his switchblade on him and he's not talking...

There's a clatter of the dropped tray. The soldiers leave and lock the cell door. They walk away, grumbling to each other.

"What was that?" asks Shizuo.

"They told me to eat," Izaya answers. "Then, they said they knew I could understand them."

"Oh," says Shizuo. "But, you should probably eat." Izaya was pretty skinny the last time he saw him. Shizuo wonders how the flea looks like now. If the enemy's telling him to eat, Izaya could have only gotten smaller. That couldn't be healthy…

"Don't feel like it," dismisses Izaya.

"When's the last time you ate?"

Izaya doesn't say anything.

"Face it, flea," says Shizuo. "You need to eat and keep your strength up. How else are we gonna escape?"

"How about you face it, Shizuo," says Izaya bitterly. "I'm not going to be part of some harebrained scheme of yours to liberate everyone these humans have done an injustice to. We're just two humans. What can we really do but wait?"

Shizuo grinds his teeth. "Look, if you're not going to help me get everyone out then at least help me by giving me the guards' schedule." That little shit has changed too much. He wants his old flea back. He likes that he can talk to Izaya Orihara without wanting to murder the man, but he wants the guy to actually work with him…

The old flea wouldn't object to his plan.

He'd go along with it and cause as much chaos as he possibly could.

This flea is just a sad one.

* * *

Shizuo isn't sure when he fell asleep, but he's jolted awake by the opening of the cells. All of the cells. The guards were letting out the prisoners? Why?

Shizuo gets up and walks out curiously. He looks around. What's going on? Had Japan and its allies won the war…? No, it seemed a bit too early for this crazed war to reach an end… "Izaya, do you know what's going on?" He takes the few steps needed to be directly outside the flea's cell.

The flea is sitting up on his bed, the blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. He's awake, but not bothering to stand up. Lazy bastard. "Maybe they're letting prisoners shower today?" Shizuo can see Izaya grip the sheets in his spidery hands. The black haired man avoids Shizuo's gaze. He looks at the nothingness next to Shizuo.

"Oh," says Shizuo, letting go of his hope for an end to this pointless war. "Well, come on then."

Izaya doesn't move. He lowers his head and looks at the off-white sheets.

"Izaya?" says Shizuo cautiously. "What's going on?"

"Listen, Shizuo, I can't walk," Izaya admits. He still doesn't look up.

Shizuo blinks. …Izaya was tortured? They broke his leg…? "Did they at least put a cast on your leg?" Shizuo's broken a lot of bones in his life. One of the few things that actually could hurt the _monster _of Ikebukuro.

"You misunderstood," Izaya says. "A cast won't exactly help me…"

Shizuo walks into the tiny cell. There's no guard to stop him. Most prisoners head towards one hallway. They move sluggishly, without any real purpose. Some have military uniforms, but a good deal of them are civilians. The people wearing neither a uniform or regular clothing were wearing a grey hospital frock. It's a depressing sight.

Izaya shrinks into himself. His cheekbones are well defined. There are deep, dark circles underneath his eyes. How can a man look so tired?

"You should follow them, Shizuo," he says.

"What about you?" The blond wants to know…

"One of the soldiers will probably come back for me," Izaya says.

They stay quiet for a while. "What did you mean when you said a cast can't help…? They did break your leg, right, Izaya?"

Izaya glances up. His hair is longer than how he usually had it styled. It's messy. So is Shizuo's hair. They aren't given combs or brushes. There's no way they can keep themselves groomed properly. He meets Shizuo's eyes and looks away.

"Tell me, damn it!" Shizuo's getting angry.

Izaya flinches.

The flea… The flea's never been afraid of him. _Never_. What happened? Shizuo yanks the blanket away viciously. And he sees just why a cast can't help him.

Izaya simply doesn't have a leg to fix. His right leg is gone, just above the knee. It's healed somewhat, but looks like the amputation had been terribly painful…

"Are you happy now, Shizu-chan?" Izaya asks him, a smile on his face. One that doesn't reach his eyes. There's anger in his voice. "What else do you want?" He's shouting now. "Just leave me alone!"

Shizuo backs away, quickly, out of the cell. He bumps into one fellow prisoner.

Izaya can't walk. Izaya doesn't have a leg. Was he… Was he tortured here? They're amputating people for… fun? Or was he shot, and the amputation necessary? Shizuo wouldn't know. He fucked up. He fucked up.

He hastily follows the crowd.

They're separated at one junction by sex. The females took a left turn and the males took a right.

The narrow hallway opens up into a large room. It consists mostly of cramped showers.

"Strip," one of the soldiers orders, accent heavy. "You will be provided with new clothing." He speaks formally. Japanese was not his first language. He sounds so strange, but Shizuo is glad to hear instructions that he can understand.

It's cold in the room, and the water is even colder.

His new clothes scratch and itch and the flea ignores him through the thin cell wall.

* * *

"Shizuo," Izaya says. His voice is thin, wavering. He sounds like he's been crying. "Now do you get why I cannot possibly help you free everyone…? If you— If you still feel like going along with your crazy plan, I'll tell you the guards' schedule." He sounds like he's given up.

Izaya had been returned to his cell much later than the others… What happened in that lost time period?

Shizuo snaps fully awake.

"But you have to get rid of your savior complex," continues the other man. "You can't save everyone here. You're just one man. Escape. Find allies, doctors. There's a lot of people here who need them…"

Izaya sounds sorrowful… He's just like those people. He's a human. For this _god _to fall so far… It's humiliating for the stick-like man. Izaya always was skinny, but with a jacket to disguise it. There's nothing to help him hide how much weight he's lost...

"Don't tell me your entire plan," he says quietly. "Actually, don't tell me anything. The guards have noticed that we talk quite often…" What's he suggesting? "When you escape, I'll be questioned. There's no doubt about it."

"They're… not going to hurt you, are they?" asks Shizuo.

Izaya laughs. "You're so naïve, Shizu-chan," he mutters. "This is war. They will excuse their brutality by saying disciplining their rebellious inmates was necessary. It'll be fine, as long as you do come back…"

"It's a promise," says Shizuo. "We're both gonna come back home to Ikebukuro and everything will be alright."

Izaya snorts. "There's no way you can keep that entire promise."

"Watch me," Shizuo dares.

* * *

He finds Japanese troops after two days of running. Two days without any breaks or food. He's starving and Shizuo needs to sleep soon. He is welcomed into the camp site. Doctors rush to him. "Are you okay?" they ask, looking for injuries. Shizuo is fine — of course. He wasn't one of those that the Russians actually tortured.

"Bring me to whoever's in charge of this camp," he says.

They listen to this strange blond man dressed in grey. They trust him, somewhat foolishly, and lead him to General Maeda Ochiyo. She's an incredibly tall woman, dressed impeccably at this early hour. Half of her head is shaved, her unshaved hair reaches her shoulder. She looks like she took no shit from anybody. Shizuo trusts her immediately.

"Good morning," she says, sipping a cup of coffee. "Should I have someone fetch you coffee? Tea? Perhaps milk?"

"No thank you," Shizuo answers. "I need help. There's a Russian camp just filled with prisoners of war, except we're not treated well. There's probably torture going on as we speak." He's direct. It's been two days. Is Izaya okay?

She puts the mug down and leans forward. "I take it that you escaped from this camp?"

"Yes."

General Maeda nods slowly. "How do I know that you're not lying, Shizuo Heiwajima. This accusation is serious… How do I know you're not working for those Russians?"

"Why would I work for people who torture my countrymen?" Shizuo asks, exasperated.

She smirks. Her teeth have been filed to points. Why? For an aesthetic or for an actual purpose? "Can you give me any names of those captured?"

He looks to the side. "I only knew three others," he says. "Well, I didn't know two of their names. But, there was Izaya Orihara…"

"Oh…?" she says, interested. "So he didn't desert… Can you prove that Izaya-chan isn't working for the Russians?"

Shizuo winces at the '-chan.' That was just plain creepy. What sort of relationship did the flea have with this terrifying woman? "Well, I mean, they did cut off his leg…"

"I see," General Maeda says. "That would prove that he is not working for them and that torture does go on. Ignoring that we do not know the circumstances behind the amputation… Fine, we will figure out how to invade this encampment and free our people…" She stands up, slamming her hands on the wooden desk. Her grin is fearsome due to her pointed teeth. "And, we'll be putting the mentions of torture into our reports and have the world see that we are the good guys here. Bam! Two birds, one stone."

She reminds him of the flea. In a strange, frightening way. The old flea that was responsible for 99% of the weird shit that went down in Ikebukuro and the multiple time he'd been framed for crimes that he did not commit.

* * *

"Izaya," Shizuo calls out, walking to the cell he knew Izaya had been in. It's empty. The door is ajar and the blanket's lying on the floor. He's gone.

"No," Shizuo says to himself. He cannot possibly be too late. "No, no, no." But the evidence all points to the fact that Izaya is not here and Shizuo did not come back in time… Where is the room where prisoners were tortured? Izaya didn't tell him that…

The other prisoners cheer when their countrymen unlock their cells. They're crying and hugging each other and their savoirs. They're so happy that they're safe.

"Heiwajima-san," one of the soldiers rushes to him from another room. "There's a prisoner asking for you."

He follows him, hoping that it's Izaya and that he's okay.

Yes, it is Izaya.

If he's okay is debatable.

Izaya is wearing something similar to a hospital gown. He isn't missing any more limbs — thank god for that. The dark circles under his eyes have only gotten darker. But he smiles when he sees the blond man and says,"You really came back for me, Shizu-chan." His eyes even water up. Seeing the flea about to cry hits Shizuo hard.

"Well, I did promise," says the blond, scratching his head.

"Can you carry me?" asks the flea quietly.

"Sure," is his response. The flea is so light. He'd have to convince him to eat more when they got back to the Japanese military base.

"Careful," says Izaya. Shizuo carries him bridal style. The smaller man wraps his arms around Shizuo's neck. "They cut me open. Not sure how well they stitched me up." So he had been tortured again and Shizuo came too late to protect him…

"I'll kill them," says Shizuo. "I'm the only one allowed to hurt you."

Izaya closes his eyes and giggles. "So charming," he says. His arms loosen a bit, which is fine with Shizuo. He doesn't want Izaya to strangle him.

"Just rest," he says. "I'll wake you up later."

He brings the injured man to the others, walking slowly to not shake Izaya. The Russians are the ones behind bars now. Shizuo sneers at one he remembers. The man looks shocked to see the blond again. The soldier — now imprisoned — yells something in Russian. Shizuo does nothing. He can't speak or understand the harsh sounding language. And he doesn't want to wake up the exhausted Izaya.

He simply carries on. What the man is trying to communicate probably doesn't matter.

He's given a blanket to cover Izaya. Shizuo notices just how many of the recently freed prisoners are missing limbs or have crude bandages. Some are crying in relief, but there are others that simply stare at nothing. Everyone will need medical attention when they get back to the Japanese base…

Shizuo's not that bright. Never has been… But, he can tell that he's not enough. Izaya — dammit — will need more people to support him... Where were Shinra and Celty when Shizuo needed them…?

There are enough vehicles to fit the soldiers and their rescued companions. The drive is quiet. Many of the exhausted people — men, women, and every other gender — fall asleep… Shizuo falls asleep too; his forehead resting on Izaya's shoulder.

It's cute. Some soldiers smile at how adorable the sleeping two are. One even takes a picture… Shizuo would kill her if he ever found out.

* * *

_thank you for your support! i loved reading your comments._ I don't have a schedule for updating this, so it'll be pretty irregular... sorry about that :/


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